Married in Haste by Cathy Maxwell

Author:Cathy Maxwell [Maxwell, Cathy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi, pdf
Tags: Historical Romance
ISBN: 9781587249501
Google: JV9CPgAACAAJ
Amazon: 0380808315
Barnesnoble: 0380808315
Goodreads: 696303
Publisher: Avon
Published: 1999-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

He’d wondered when she was going to finally acknowledge his existence—when she needed something!

“Erwynn Keep, Gwynfa.” He spelled the word for her.

She repeated the address to her friends.

“Are you ready to go, my lord?” the posting boy asked from the other side of the coach.

“Yes,” Brenn said curtly.

Anne and Leah’s eyes filled with tears. “May God go with you,” Anne said.

“And may He watch over both of you,” Tess replied, struggling with tears herself.

Brenn sat grumpily in his corner, feeling like a perfect dog for parting the three friends. Moments later, the posting boy shouted at the horses and they were off.

Tess leaned her head out the window and waved to her friends until they’d gone around a corner and were out of sight. She sat back in the seat. A sniffle escaped.

He pulled out his handkerchief a second time and offered it. She took it without comment.

He sat in silence, giving her time to compose herself. At last, she had a rein on her emotions. Other women would be boo-hooing all the way to Wales, but not Tess. She had bottom.

He thought about telling her that, too, but she spoke first. Without looking at him, she said, “I know we are married and you have the right to my bed. But I’ve been thinking, and I believe it best if we remain cordial and not do what we did again last night too often.”

Brenn stared at her, uncertain that he’d heard her correctly.

She didn’t elaborate further but pulled out a book from a satchel the servants had loaded earlier and proceeded to start reading.

He frowned. “Wait a moment, Tess. I don’t feel cordial at all. Cordial is a damn cold emotion. You’re my wife. And I expect you to be such in every sense of the word.”

“I don’t admire swearing.” She turned a page of the book.

A flash of temper shot through him. He reined it under control. Temper was not the way to woo a woman. “You’re right.” Those words were hard to say! “I admit I can on occasion be a bit, um, salty. I will watch my language.”

She continued reading her book.

He was apologizing and she had nothing to say? What did she think he was? Some schoolboy she had put in his place? “Tess, don’t ignore me.”

She ignored him. Her finger ran down the printed page. When she came to the bottom, she flipped the page over and started again.

Her actions, even the prim tilt of her nose, infuriated him—until he thought of last night. He’d been ham-handed. A sheepherder would have shown more finesse. And now, he was removing her from the only home she’d known.

But he couldn’t undo the damage unless she paid attention to him. Nor did he think her fit of airs had to do with last night.

As the wheels of the coach turned, he brooded. The brooding turned to plotting. The plotting to action.

Brenn stretched out his bad leg, resting his calf on top of the silver chest. His booted foot hung in front of her book.

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